


coffee, burglars and airplanes (in no particular order)

by eliotthawke



Category: Formula 2 RPF
Genre: Formula 2, Formula 3, Gen, ferrari driver academy, unexpected roommates au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 04:36:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21293675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliotthawke/pseuds/eliotthawke
Summary: Callum has a new roommate and is unaware of it
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47





	coffee, burglars and airplanes (in no particular order)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [g0ldendays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/g0ldendays/gifts).

> This is a work of fiction, in no way do I claim to know people portrayed in this fic or state that these are their personalities. There is no romantic plot, the dynamic portrayed is friendship so if that's not what you want to read about then you probably should keep looking. If you're here for friendly banter, I hope you enjoy this. If you're Lou, this fic is for you, as you were the original inspiration behind it, I love you and hope you like it!

Callum was not having his best day ever.

The chirpy airport worker who checked his passport and ticket at the gate back in Heathrow, that was what she said. "I hope you have the best day ever!" She wasn't even joking, she meant it. But in Callum's opinion a day that started with a 5-in-the-morning flight could not, by definition, be any good. He was horribly sleepy and grumpy so he ignored the woman and just inwardly scoffed as he walked past.

Now, standing in a busy terminal surrounded by very loud Italian personnel of the airport who were all falling head over heels to find his lost luggage, he remembered the woman and scoffed again. Best day, my ass.

It didn't get any better after the luggage was found, because he discovered that the car sent for him from Maranello was late. Now properly pissed off, Callum wandered around the airport for another hour with a scowl bad enough to scare small children out of his way. His phone battery was dying so he couldn’t even use it to entertain himself, not that Callum really wanted any entertainment at the moment. All he really wanted was to have a shower and get some sleep.

Finally, he was picked up and taken to the team base; a change of clothes to match everyone in the building, and Callum was directed to the meeting room and stayed there for what must have been hours. The meeting was paused for lunch, although it might have been three or four meetings - Callum had to admit he zoned out at times and lost count. He was given a schedule for the upcoming week he were to spend in Italy, and finally was allowed to leave. Picking up his trusty FIAT that was waiting for Callum every time, he drove to his little apartment not twenty minutes away from the base.

The day was bright and sunny when Callum parked the car and dragged out his long-suffering luggage bag. He thought fondly of the blinds on his windows that would allow him some darkness to take a nap in. The apartment was on the sixth floor and the elevator was broken, but Callum was trained enough to get through a few flights of stairs without having to catch his breath.

He stopped on the landing and fished out the keys, then pushed one in the lock and discovered something was already in it. He tried again, but it just wouldn't go in. Met with resistance, Callum repeated the process for the third time, making sure he had the right key, but to no avail - something was blocking the keyhole.

"What the hell," Callum muttered and took the key out, bending to have a look. At that exact moment, he heard quick steps behind the door and it flew open.

An unfamiliar guy stood in the doorway. He was looking at Callum who was still doubled over, and his mouth twitched as he fought a smile.

It took that little laugh that never even escaped the guy's mouth to finally snap Callum out of his stupor. He straightened out and noted with satistfaction that the guy was shorter than him.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?"

The kid smiled for real now, thin lips forming a lopsided grin.

"I'm your new roommate! Didn't they tell you?“

He had a strong accent - Aussie, no, Kiwi. It took Callum a second to catch up with the words.

"What? No, no one told me about any roommates!" He suddenly was struck with a guess. "Are you a burglar or something?"

The guy's eyebrows went up so high, they almost disappeared under his short, simply cut brown hair.

"A burglar with a house key?" he jangled a key that he had just taken out of the lock - that's been obstructing it the whole time from the inside.

"I had a spare one in the house, you just took mine!" Callum didn't know why he was arguing specifics with this little twat. He was short but not scrawny, Callum thought as he assessed the possibility of having to throw him out.

The kid leaned on the doorway, arms crossed, looking incredulous but relaxed, and it was pissing Callum off.

"How did I get in, then?"

"Through the window!"

"On the sixth floor?"

He was laughing at him now. When he was done, he shook his head and looked at Callum seriously.

"I'm Marcus, I'm your new roommate. Prema said they'll warn you. Come on."

Callum stood there, feeling like an idiot. Hesitation rendered him speechless. This kid looked way too chill for a burglar, and he talked about Prema. And Callum did sleep through most of what's been said to him this morning... It must be for real, then.

_Ah, balls._

"I'm Callum," he said awkwardly and pushed past Marcus to get inside, in a hurry to hide in his bedroom.

"Yeah, I know," Marcus called after him as he shut the door, "because they told me and I _listened!_"

"Uh-huh, sure," Callum muttered under his nose as he barged through the living room. So Marcus was a smartass. Brilliant.

He was glad to see that his bedroom looked untouched, at least. Callum opened the suitcase, looking for a change of clothes to take to the bathroom, which now seemed to be the only place in his house that could provide solitude - because there were light steps behind him, and Callum saw Marcus in the doorway, leaning to the side again.

"Now what?" Callum almost growled, rummaging through the suitcase. He was embarrassed and kinda humiliated by this whole thing, and it didn't help that it was mostly his own fault.

"Why did you think I was a burglar?" Marcus asked with a laugh, and his heavy accent was too loud for Callum's tired ears.

"Cause," he mumbled helplessly. Last thing he wanted to do right now was talk to the guy. "I'm away a lot so someone could notice that and break in."

"But- I'm- " Marcus gestured to a Ferrari Driver Academy-labelled shirt he was wearing, which Callum had only just noticed. Marcus waved. "I get it, you'd think I just stole one of yours again. Don't worry, I didn't go through your dressers."

Callum's gaze shifted to Marcus's trendy skinny ripped jeans.

"Maybe if you wore normal pants, then people wouldn't think you're here to steal theirs."

He wanted to laugh when he saw Marcus’s mouth fall open and him take a step back before he caught himself and huffed.

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?”

“Yeah, it’s exactly how it is,” Callum said with a vengeful smile. He drew the line at unexpected roommates trespassing in his bedroom, so he walked up to the door and simply shut it in Marcus’s face.

–

After a quick shower, Callum sprawled across his bed with every intention of taking a nap and pulled the bed covers over himself, arranging long limbs comfortably. His mind was racing, though, and he caught himself trying to hear what Marcus was up to behind his bedroom wall.

Enough about him, Callum tried telling himself. So you made a fool out of yourself and took it out on the guy that wasn’t to blame for that, it’s not a big deal. Callum still felt guilt pricking at him, no matter how he tried to quiet that down, and soon it became clear that no sleep would come to him in a state like this. With a frustrated sigh he sat down, threw off the thin blanket. _Fuck it. _

Callum got up, pulled the door and exited his bedroom, but Marcus wasn’t in the living room. Suspicious smells were emitting from the kitchen, though, so Callum padded to the adjacent room, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

Marcus was poring over a recipe displayed on his phone. His one hand with a spatula in it was meant to be over a boiling pot but drifted sideways, and red sause was dripping on Callum’s pristine white stovetop.

“Dude, I’ve set off the fire alarm with my cooking once and even I know this is no good.”

Marcus shot him a dismissive look and turned back to his phone.

“I am aware,” he gave back, distractedly. “Why don’t you shut another door in my face and leave me alone?”

Ouch. Callum thought he deserved that one, so he let it slide and swallowed the jab.

“Smells travel under doors,” Callum informed him, steppping to the stove and killing the heat. Marcus yelped in protest, but it was too late - Callum pushed the pot off the hob and tipped it to pour the contents into the sink, then put the lid over the empty pot and turned to the kid. “Put that phone to use and order us some pizza, will you?”

He saw a flash of surprise in Marcus’s eyes and found himself thinking it was very hard to determine their colour - dark, greenish blue with specks of hazel, - when Marcus blinked and turned away, tapping at his phone.

Callum walked over to the window and opened it to let the smell out and some fresh air in.

“Hi,” Marcus said pleasantly, “I’d like to order a pizza.”

Callum plopped in a chair and grabbed a cracker he kept on his table for rough times like these. He was trying his best to act casual and thought that might be the way to smooth this over instead of making it more awkward by apologizing.

“What toppings do you like?” Marcus asked, and Callum saw him looking at him unsure, covering the phone mic with his palm. The kid’s gaze was hesitant, and something told Callum this was bigger than just pizza.

“Pepperoni,” he said as friendly as he could get without sounding fake, and just hoped Marcus would get it.

“Boring,” Marcus rolled his eyes, but smiled a little and took away his hand, speaking back into the phone, “One large pepperoni, please.”

—

One large pepperoni later, Callum and Marcus were spread over the sofa, satisfied and full. Sun was setting, painting plain white walls hues of golden orange, and a pleasant breeze was flowing in from the window. Some rally race was on the TV which no one watched as they'd established they didn’t care much about rally, but Callum didn’t want awkward silence in the room that would blanket them should he turn the TV off.

Marcus was on his phone, texting furiously, and Callum felt sleepy again so he leaned back on the cushions and yawned.

“So how long have you been with FDA?”

Marcus stopped his typing, turned his head to Callum’s side but didn’t look at him directly.

“A year,” he said, and he sounded shy about it which was hilarious considering Callum’s own situation. And of course, the question followed: “What about you?”

“Uhhhh,” Callum hesitated for a second, but all Marcus had to do to catch any lies was to google his name, and this whole roommates thing already set them off to a bad start. Better not to add to it.

“Two months,” he admitted, and Marcus looked at him with a grin.

“Prema?”

“A year,” Callum responded, inwardly relieved he at least had that. “And yourself?”

“Same,” Marcus smiled. “Win anything with them yet?”

Oh, for the love of-

“Are we really doing this?” Callum grinned like he had five titles to his name. Fake it till you make it, right?

“Yeah! Like you don’t want to know,” Marcus winked playfully, and seeing Callum’s dumbfounded face, laughed out loud, then continued. “Fine, I’ll start. I was second in ADAC F4 this year and won the Italian F4. There you go.”

A champion and a runner up in one season, and he’d been with FDA and Prema for a year. This was getting better by the minute, and by better Callum meant anything but.

“Okay, showoff,” he grumbled. “I’ve never won anything. Only got to fourth this year in F3.”

He knew there was no point hiding this and still, didn’t know why he told Marcus the truth - they weren’t friends, and Callum didn’t have the easiest time talking about this even to the people who were.

Marcus didn’t laugh, or make a snide comment.

“Must have been one hell of a fourth if FDA signed you,” he noted thoughtfully, and Callum didn’t know what to make of it and didn’t really get a chance for a response, because Marcus heaved himself off the sofa and grabbed his phone. “I’m going to bed, you coming to the base tomorrow?”

“Uh, sure,” Callum replied with some confusion; Marcus smiled.

“Awesome, I can catch a ride with you then. Just knock on the door ten minutes before you gotta leave,” he said and trundled to the other bedroom door, exactly across from Callum’s. “See you later.”

“Yeah,” Callum nodded even though Marcus couldn’t see him already, and after turning the TV off went to his own bedroom for much-needed sleep.

–

The next morning, Callum knocked on Marcus’s door as requested, and after a minute he emerged, fully dressed but with sleepy eyes.

“I need coffee,” he mumbled wearily. Callum shrugged.

“I’m useless at that, so…”

“Have you got a coffee pot?” Marcus rubbed at his eyes, shook himself awake. “I know I’m not exactly a top chef but I can make a decent cup.”

Callum was quickly reevaluating his stance on Marcus as his new roommate after a steaming cup of amazing coffee that was put in front of him, with double milk and one sugar. Marcus managed to get it just right, and sipping the hot liquid that warmed his insides, Callum found himself not minding his current situation at all.

“You might wanna hurry up with that,” Marcus nodded at Callum’s coffee; his own cup of black coffee was almost empty. “We have to be at the base in half an hour, and Prema doesn’t like it when someone’s late.”

“Fine,” Callum grumbled, voice still rough after sleep. “Why do they always have training at 8 in the morning?”

Marcus laughed as Callum downed the rest of his coffee and stood up.

“Wait till you go to an FDA camp,” he said knowingly. “You’ll be up at 6 doing yoga, or karate, or God knows what.”

“Fuck, okay,” Callum had to admit he already wasn’t looking forward to that.

They each grabbed a backpack with some gear and left the small apartment and the smell of coffee behind. A quick ride later, they arrived at the Prema team base and were greeted by some personnel that divided them and took Callum to his trainer. After a morning of exercise, he was allowed to go grab some brunch, since he barely had any breakfast, so Callum wandered off towards the break room. He bumped into Mick along the way, and they caught up while standing in a queue for some food.

“I think it’s ridiculous we have to wait in line,” Mick complained mockingly, pulling at the Ferrari Driver Academy logo on his shirt. “We should just be able to skip to the front.”

“_You_ might be,” Callum snorted, because everyone at Prema loved to poke fun at Mick getting special treatment (even though it wasn’t actually a thing). Mick pouted.

“Screw you too,” he shoved Callum lightly, but he still swayed to the side with the force of the push, and felt his shoulder knock into someone walking past.

He turned with a quick “I’m sorry” and saw none other than Marcus, who was rubbing his head where Callum’s shoulder must have impacted with it. He shot Callum an annoyed look.

“You trying to kill me now?”

“I said I’m sorry,” Callum was quick on the defensive, because he was tired and hungry and because he did already apologize.

“Whatever,” Marcus seemed to be in a mood as well, frown not leaving his face. He turned and left before anyone could say anything else, and Mick stared at Callum with a question obvious in his eyes.

“New roommate,” Callum explained, and pretended he was picking a salad and couldn’t see Mick unsatisfied with that response.

“That’s Marcus Armstrong you almost hit in the face,” Mick informed him after they ordered.

“Is that supposed to impress me?” Callum mumbled under his nose but he knew Mick heard him because he looked at him disapprovingly and sighed.

“It is. This guy has been racing in two series a year since karting, and he won Italian F4. He was so good, they had him move all the way from New Zealand when he was fourteen.”

Dropping his tray at the nearest empty table, Callum glared at Mick. It didn’t make him feel any better to know how accomplished this guy was. If anything, it only made him feel worse because he couldn’t help but compare it to his own less-than-brilliant career.

“Did they pay you to hype him up or something? You his personal agent?”

Mick shook his head.

“Sometimes you’re so mean, man, I don’t know why.”

Callum felt a little ashamed, but it was said with no heat, and thankfully Mick changed the topic, so Callum tried his best to get his new roommate out of his head.

–

Most of the afternoon was spent on the simulator, with only a quick break for some cardio. The base was full of people, engineers and white-collars and mechanics and PR managers, but everyone was busy with their own jobs and Callum was mostly left to his own devices, supervised by his trainer Luca. The only other people he spoke to when bumped into on ocassion were his Prema teammates from this season and fellow FDA drivers, thankfully with no annoying New Zealanders anywhere near them.

After Callum was finally set free after an intensely busy day, he went straight to his car without second thought and drove to a restaurant to get some takeout before heading home. The evening was spent trying to set up his Playstation which was a tricky and difficult task and Callum was still nowhere with it some three hours later.

He looked around the room, cords and boxes everywhere in creeping twilight because he’d been at it so long it got dark around him. Callum got up and stepped over to the light switch, legs cramping after being folded under him the whole time, and as the lights flooded the living room he heard a key turning in the lock.

A scuffling sound as shoes were discarded in the hallway, and Marcus appeared in the living room, looking positively stone-faced. He didn’t pay attention to the mess or Callum standing in the middle of it, just walked straight to his bedroom and shut the door with a bang. So he didn’t have a great day at the base, wasn’t any of Callum’s fault. He dropped his attempts to set up the console and went to heat up his takeout.

The next morning was a lot similar to one before it - Callum waking Marcus with a knock, cup of coffee (this time with some sandwiches Callum picked up at the restaurant yesterday), then a drive to the base. Marcus hadn’t said a word to him the whole time, but Callum wasn’t a morning person himself so he didn’t mind that at all. There was Luca waiting for Callum at the entrance, and as soon as the car stopped, Marcus all but jumped out of it and went in the building by himself.

Luca greeted Callum and took him in, Callum bracing himself for more training. He knew it was part of the job, but he didn’t enjoy gym and didn’t think he ever would. In the middle of the session, however, they were interrupted by a girl whose name Callum couldn’t remember but knew she was from PR. Her blonde head appeared in the door, and Callum set down a set of dumbbells he was holding.

“Morning Callum, pop down to PR when you’re done, please,” she said with a friendly smile, and he nodded. She left with that, and Callum resumed the training, but it worried him that he’d been called down like that. Something must have happened, or it would be said to him during his allocated session with PR people. Callum wanted to ask Luca if he knew what this was about, but decided against it. Even if he knew, he probably wouldn’t tell him since he hadn’t already. Either he was in the dark same as Callum, or he wasn’t allowed to talk about it so asking would be useless.

Callum could hardly wait until he could hit the showers, and after changing into dry, clean clothes he walked to the PR department and was directed to a room. Two people in it were familiar to him - his PR manager Alice and Prema’s head of PR Giuseppe. The third person in the room was a man in mid-thirties, also wearing suit and tie, but Callum didn’t know who he was.

“Ah, Callum,” Giuseppe got up to shake his hand and gestured to a chair in front of him. Despite cold anxiety inside him, Callum smiled a little.

“Am I in trouble?”

“Not yet,” Alice mumbled, and Giuseppe must have missed it because he looked at Callum seriously and coughed, preparing to talk.

“Callum, we here at Prema are all a racing family,” he started. Callum didn’t see Giuseppe often but he was familiar with his manner of speech, so big words weren’t a surprise. However, his next words very much were. “So, I think you will understand why we’re not happy with how you’re treating your flat mate Marcus.”

Did the kid seriously snitch on him? Over what? Oh, you have got to be kidding.

“What?” Callum looked at Alice for support, but she wasn’t providing any. Making an effort to return to a friendly tone, Callum turned back to Giuseppe. “I don’t really understand what you mean.”

“We’re talking about yesterday, when you left for your apartment without Marcus and he walked seven kilometers home,” the third man spoke, and Callum felt chills down his spine.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” he said as politely as possible, still trying to make sense of all this. Why did this idiot walk?

“Adam Walsh, Marcus’s manager,” the man said quickly, and his face and tone were coldly polite. That explained why he was here on the kid’s behalf like a parent in the headmaster’s office.

“I wasn’t aware I had to wait for Marcus,” Callum explained, looking at Alice and Giuseppe. “Why didn’t he just take a car?”

“Marcus can’t drive, he’s seventeen,” Alice said quietly.

Callum had to close his eyes for a second, because this information had the effect of a punch in the face. God, he had no idea Marcus was underage. He looked like they were the same age, when Marcus had been two years his junior. Balls.

It was hard to make sense of any of it - why didn’t Marcus just talk directly to him about this? Why do it over PR department, managers involved? Marcus looked more than capable of fighting his own battles. And this morning he still made Callum that same perfect cup of coffee - what the hell was going on?

“I take it that you didn’t know of this,” Giuseppe said kindly. “We understand there was some miscommunication between the two of you, but it has to be left behind.”

“Yeah, I tried, but if he’s just going to act like this and not talk to me, then I’m not the problem here,” Callum forced himself to lift his gaze from his lap to meet Giuseppe’s. “I don’t see why he has to live with me at all if he doesn’t like me so much.”

“Because no other driver has a flat in Maranello, and we can’t have him live further for the reason that he can’t drive,” Giuseppe explained, kindness evaporating from his voice, and there was an edge to it Callum didn’t like.

“I’m not a babysitter,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. “I’m not gonna wait around and drive him home when he’s done training like a nanny picking you up after school.”

Callum noticed Giuseppe and Alice looking over his shoulder, and turned his head just in time to see Marcus in the door.

His face was a mask but his eyes had hurt swimming in them, threatening to spill out. A second they stared at each other, then Marcus whipped around and was gone.

The door closed softly, and the silence in the room was tangible, heavy, hard to breathe in. Mortified, Callum wanted nothing more than be swallowed by the floor right now, even if that sends him straight to hell. Couldn’t be worse than this, surely.

“This is not over,” Adam promised threateningly and stormed out to go after his protegee, leaving Callum alone with the managers. He dared not to look at them, and was almost prepared to hear that he’s going to be thrown out of the team here and now.

“Callum,” Alice said, her voice gentle. “You have to make this right. This was an unfair thing to say. It’s not his fault he’s seventeen.”

Callum sighed, trying to find room in his lungs for air, and looked at her when her hand touched his shoulder.

“I just don’t understand him. He won’t talk to me about it, but he went to you guys. That’s not- I don’t know how to talk to him if he’s just going to run to his manager every time.”

“Marcus did not,” Giuseppe said with a sigh, and Callum took that as permission to look at him as well. The man just looked tired now, and he intertwined his fingers together, leaning closer to the table. “He never even told anyone about what happened yesterday. His trainer just noticed walking distance data on his watch, and brought it up. Adam was in the room, and he’s… not a man to let that slide. He came to us with this and requested a meeting. Marcus didn't want it to happen at all, but Adam insisted, and so he was to join us after his sim session.”

That explained it, then. The coffee and him storming through the apartment yesterday, and his manager pushing this so hard. Callum felt guilt settling deep in his heart, sinking it, multiplied times hundred by what just happened. Callum would really like to be alone right now and have a chance to sort this out for himself, but first he had to assure the managers that he’ll set this right and that this meeting won’t have to happen again.

“Are you… going to tell FDA people about this?” Callum looked at Giuseppe. Given that him and Marcus were both part of it, he expected this to reach them, too, and that’s not an impression Callum wanted to make as the newest recruit.

“We will not,” Giuseppe said, and at least part of the weight was lifted off Callum’s chest. “It was our decision to room you together as part of Prema, so whatever comes of it is our responsibility and not Ferrari's business." He paused. "I cannot promise for Adam, though, so that is up to you.”

“I’ll fix it,” Callum promised again, and got up to leave. “Thank you guys, I really appreciate how you’ve handled it.”

Alice nodded to him and Giuseppe smiled, and with that Callum left the room.

–

The sun was setting again, shining through the windshield of Callum’s FIAT parked square in front of the building doors. He couldn’t afford missing Marcus, even though a glance on his watch told Callum he still had half an hour to kill. He had popped down to catch his trainer Luca, asked him if he knew Marcus’s trainer, then ran to the gym to find the guy and ask after Marcus’s schedule. After he himself was free from duties (some interviews and filming, relatively easy today), Callum got in the car and had been in it for over two hours now, stewing in his own thoughts.

He had to admit he was very wrong about Marcus. The kid he looked down on from the moment of their (stupid and unfortunate) meeting turned out to be twice the man Callum himself had been these few days. Callum owed him more than an apology.

A knock on the window woke Callum up, and he rolled down his window to be greeted with Mick’s smiling face.

“Waiting for a date?” he joked.

“Something like that.”

“Well, good luck and use protection,” Mick winked. Callum shoved him through the window, causing him to giggle, and Mick waved goodbye as he righted himself.

Callum, left alone with his thoughts again, sighed and rubbed his face. He felt like he aged seventy years today, and the worst part was still ahead.

Not even ten minutes passed when Callum spotted a familiar short figure exiting the revolving door, same Ferrari shirt and ripped jeans as yesterday. Climbing out of the car, Callum shut the door and Marcus automatically looked in the direction of the sound. When he noticed Callum, his step faltered and his face turned to ice again. Callum remembered his cheeky smile from the day they met, when he stood in the doorway making jokes. How did it all go so wrong so fast?

Marcus stopped two steps in front of him, and Callum forced himself to look in his strange, cold eyes - grey? green? blue? - and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” he started. His own voice sounded too quiet to him, so he cleared his throat and continued. “I was a dick to you for no reason from the start, and you didn’t deserve it. So I’m sorry.”

Marcus nodded and his head went down, breaking the eye contact Callum was counting on to read his mood.

“If you.. forgive me… then I’d like to start over.”

The pause was awkward and heavy, and Callum felt as if this was his entire life on the line. Heat flushed his cheeks when he realized how much he really wanted Marcus to forgive him, how much he wanted them to be able to start a clean sheet. He scrambled his brains, thinking of something else to say and make Marcus believe him, but the kid lifted his head and in his clear eyes Callum saw everything he needed to.

“I’m Marcus,” he said quietly, and stretched out his hand. “Marcus Armstrong.”

Relief flooded Callum, threatened to drown him as waves of tension he'd been holding in washed off him. It meant more to him than he could ever say and he was endlessly impressed with Marcus's maturity and strength of character to find it in him to forgive. 

“Nice to meet you,” Callum said, matching his serious, soft voice but his lips twitched, betraying him, as he took Marcus’s small hand in his and shook it. “Callum Ilott.” And, before it could get awkward again, he let go of Marcus’s hand and reached in the car through an open window. “I heard you like black coffee with three sugars, Marcus,” he said, holding up two cups in front of him. “It’s a little cold by now, but-”

“It’ll do,” Marcus took the cup, his face still unreadable. “If you tell me it wasn’t you who made it.”

They got in the car, and Callum found himself grinning.

“You just met me. You don’t know that my coffee is terrible,” he reminded Marcus, who squished the cup between his knees while putting on the seatbelt.

“Then you don’t know how I take mine,” Marcus shot back with a tiny smile, and Callum felt like he could finally breathe again. Marcus looked at him then, and his eyes were serious again. “I didn’t say it, but I feel like I need to. It’s… all been kind of a mess, so I don’t blame you. Apology accepted.”

Callum nodded, thankful to hear it, and started the car. He didn’t trust himself to be fully focused on the road so he drove carefully, and Marcus took a sip of his coffee and huffed.

“Dude, if you drive a race car like this, no wonder you didn’t win anything.”

“Oi,” Callum smiled and made a point of stepping on the brakes. “If you like walking better, you’re free to go.”

“I’d make it back faster than in this, I bet,” Marcus shot him a playful look, and Callum returned it.

Bickering, they made it home in 15, and stepping in the apartment found Callum’s mess from yesterday still in the living room.

“Good God,” Marcus commented. “Did an Apple store explode in here?”

“Shut up,” Callum muttered. “I wanted to play some games, and, well-”

“You suck at this, don’t you?”

Marcus sighed and stepped over the boxes to the console sitting in the middle of the mess. Callum reluctantly picked up a bunch of cords, without the slightest idea of what to do with them. Marcus looked back at him and yanked the cords out of his hand, picking one to plug in the TV.

“Well, don’t just stand there. If I remember correctly, it’s your turn to order pizza.”

“We can’t have pizza two days in a row, our trainers will have a field day,” Callum protested. “I have a better idea.”

Half an hour later, Callum had returned from the corner store and was in the middle of making a curry to the soundtrack of noises the TV and the Playstation made when something was plugged and unplugged and occassional swearing. When the dish was on the stove and Callum loaded the dishwasher, he found Marcus on the sofa, controller in hand, scrolling through the selection of games that the TV displayed.

“Holy shit, you did it,” Callum remarked.

“Yeah, it’s almost as if I know what I’m doing,” Marcus let out a laugh.

“Big fan of Kimi Raikkonen, you must be.”

“Sure am,” Marcus noted, picking a game of Counter Strike. “Got a tribute on my helmet and everything.”

“For real?” It was hard to tell if Marcus was joking or not, although from what people had told Callum, he was only getting a taste of his own medicine.

“Yeah, man.” Marcus pulled out his phone, scrolled through gallery and turned the screen towards Callum.

“Nice lid,” Callum said without joking and got up to check on the curry.

“Nice smell,” Marcus gave back with a nod towards the kitchen.

“I’ll teach you, young padawan,” Callum chuckled and returned a minute later with two steaming bowls.

“I can teach you how to work with technolody, old man.” Marcus accepted the bowl with a laugh, and his eyes were bright now, happy. It warmed Callum’s heart more than he thought it could, though he showed no sign of it.

“I can teach you how to pick clothes your own size, then,” Callum was looking at Marcus’s jeans that had to be uncomfortably tight in places.

“Oh yeah, do that while I teach you not to drive like you’re seventy eight.”

Callum laughed, sending a forkful of curry into his mouth.

“Maybe it’s not so bad that I got stuck with you as my roommate,” he said, and Marcus looked at him with a soft smile. Again, it looked like he said more with his eyes than he could ever say out loud.

“Aren’t you glad I broke in?” he only said, and they ate in silence with the videogame loading in the background.

Brilliant Italian sun was setting over the roofs, and Callum saw an airplane flying low, preparing to land. Once again he remembered that woman in Heathrow and though that while these three days had not been the best ones ever, he had a good chance for plenty of those in the future. Actually, looking at Marcus, spread over their couch and shovelling his curry like there was no tomorrow, Callum was pretty sure of it.


End file.
